


Dog-tags and Cheap Cigarettes

by thehiddenhero



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sick Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehiddenhero/pseuds/thehiddenhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or any character/material created by Marvel. Captain America and its characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dog-tags and Cheap Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or any character/material created by Marvel. Captain America and its characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

"Stevie, you're alright. Look at me, huh?"

Steve tentatively opened his eyes to stare back into calm baby blues, his hammering heart beginning to relax simply at the sight of Bucky's kind face and the realization that while one of Bucky's hands was on his shoulder, the other was laced with his own.

"Nightmares again, hmm?"

Bucky's voice was slurred and deep from being asleep just a moment ago, and Steve knew that he had awoken in haste and ran into the room upon hearing his screams. The blond said nothing, only nodding and pushing sweat drenched hair from his forehead with his free hand. He leaned forward to rest his head on Bucky's chest, feeling strong arms wrap around his fragile frame.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," Bucky said sadly, his voice laced with worry, and self disappointment. "I shoulda slept on the couch beside you. They said a side effect of the medicine was nightmares, and I didn't even think about the unfamiliar surroundings...Shit, I'm so sorry." Bucky sighed, rocking with the smaller man tucked safely in his arms, as far as he was concerned, right where Steve Rogers belonged.

It had been exactly three weeks since Steve had first come down with this bout of sickness, after a relatively good stint of a month or so in good (as good as it got, anyway) health. It started with coughing and wheezing, the faintness that forced Steve to hold on to Bucky at random moments throughout the day just to keep from falling flat on his face. It was only after Bucky put his foot down and demanded that his best friend go to the doctor's that Steve reluctantly agreed, always trying to prove that he was stronger and didnt need assistance. Because he had waited so long, Steve's illness had turned into a full blown respiratory infection, and he was put on antibiotics and bed rest for at least the next two weeks. Bucky didnt mind constantly caring for Steve, in fact he'd rather do it than allow anyone else to, because then he knew Steve would get all of the attention and care that he desperately needed. Bucky didnt mind waking up every two hours through the night to administer Steve his medicine, or helping Steve walk to the washroom because of his tendency to faint. Bucky didnt mind preparing and bringing Steve each and every meal, or cleaning up afterwards. Bucky didnt mind scraping by and pulling the weight of the rent and bills by himself while Steve was sick. He didnt mind working extra time, or even selling some of the few items he owned so that they could make ends meet. As long as Steve was alright, so was he. Bucky didn't mind moving Steve's single old wire-coiled bed into the living room, where the only actual window was in their tiny apartment. Steve needed the window to be propped open at all hours, for the cold air was a small help to his breathing conditions, and to Bucky, that small help for Steve meant the world. The only thing that really bothered Bucky was the fact that Steve couldnt sleep in their bedroom anymore. Sure, they slept in separate beds (though Bucky often wished otherwise), but they both always slept sounder with the other one nearby, still able to hear the other's bed coiled squeak with each toss and turn throughout the night, and the occasional snore, especially when Bucky came home from a long day at the docks.

"I'm okay, Buck," Steve said quietly, though he made no effort to pull away for him, remaining pressed against the brunette's chest and listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. He sighed quietly, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing the calming sound to nearly lull him to sleep. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I always worry about you, Stevie. You know that. It's what I do. I'm not leavin' you, alright? I'm staying right here on that couch and there isn't a damn thing you can do to change my mind." Bucky quirked a small smile, knowing Steve would probably give him a light smack for that if he werent feeling so ill.

Steve simply sighed, and nodded once more, looking up at Bucky with a little laugh. "Hey, Buck?" He whispered, his voice quiet and hoarse.

"Yeah, Steve? What is it?" Bucky couldn't hide the worry in his voice, and he ran a hand gently through Steve's hair. "What can I do for you, pal?"

"Is there...is..." A round of coughing interrupted what Steve was trying to say, and Bucky's eyes widened as he rubbed the smaller man's back, trying to soothe him through the coughs that he knew gave Steve great pains in his chest and lungs.

"Is... is there any...any...apple pie..left?"

There was a moment of dead silence between the two of them followed shortly by a loud groan from Bucky, and muffled laughter from Steve. "You punk!" Bucky smiled messing Steve's hair and standing up. "Yeah, yeah. I think there's some left out there." 

He walked into the small, dimly lit kitchen, pouring two small glasses of milk, two forks, and the remainder of the apple pie that Bucky's Ma had baked when she heard Steve wasnt feeling well. Walking back to the living room-turned-bedroom, Bucky sat on the edge of Steves bed, placing the milk on the coffee table, and taking a cheeky forkful of pie. It was a simple thing, sitting up at 3:26 am with your best friend in the world, enjoying pie and milk, and most of all each other's company, and to Bucky Barnes, it was paradise.


End file.
